


Dogs go to heaven

by garageblues (Luar)



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: M/M, Self-Reflection, disotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luar/pseuds/garageblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The line between reality and fantasy gets thinner and thinner for Freddy. Maybe that line never existed at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dogs go to heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, my first fic and all because of these two. I began to write about them as a way to not fall asleep on the way to work at 5 am but hey, I'm obsessed with Reservoir Dogs, what the fuck was I supossed to do?
> 
> My first language is spanish so I apology in advance for any mistake.

**1\. Wakefulness.**

That night he barely slept a couple of hours. His head was going insanely fast reminding the details about that evening -every movement, every word and every expression, the way Mr. White smiled when he occasionally gave one of his quick witty answers-. His heartbeats were like a damn train out of control, and God knew how many times he had already tossed and turned on the couch. Done, he finally sat on the edge of the bed and turned on the light. He reached a pack of the night stand and lighted a cigarette. "C’mon Freddy" "All of this is normal, completely normal. To do it right you have to look out every detail, you can't drop your guard for a fucking second, you´ll get used to it, it's your first job, it's normal, completely normal..."

While he was convincing himself out loud, Holdaway's voice echoed in his brain like a catchy song from the K-Billy's program: "Long Beach Mike is not your friend; Long Beach Mike is a fucking scumbag". But it wasn't exactly Long Beach Mike's face the one that was showing up in his head. On the other hand, Holdaway didn't prepare him for this. No one told him that it could be possible that the supposed gang of "criminal motherfuckers" he had to work with were actually human beings, as professional in their job as he was in his own, not to say he'd end up admiring one of them. Mr. White was the kind of guy you would always want to have by your side if you were clever, doesn't matter which one exactly. He was fucking charming, he could be reading the freakin' newspaper and everyone would sit down to hear what he had to say. 

He wasn't that bad that night at the bar. Socks and Boots or something like that. He had a hard time learning the fucking story, but those guys cracked up with it. It was a freakin' tough moment; Joe Cabot is not some shithead you can tell your spiel hoping everything turns out right. The guy was more experienced than anyone treating with tricksters and before you'd even finished talking he had already decided if you were worth it. As long as Mr. Orange was using his voice to tell his story, little Freddy was looking carefully at Mr. White, who was smoking calmly, smiling with his eyes always on him. "Well, shit. If I can convince Cabot's old friend I can convince them all".

Cabot left short time after for business to the back side of the bar with people Freddy had never seen in his life, but he memorized their faces in case it could be useful at some point. He was left with Mr. White and Nice Guy Eddie, talking about nothing and everything. Between those laughs and stories he began to wonder if he was so into his role he was doing a fucking excellent job or he was just being himself. When they got tired of trying to remember how the fuck was called Frankie Avalon's partner in one of those Beach Party movies that from time to time showed up on TV, Eddie drove them back home. Well, he drove him back home and wherever the hell Mr. White stayed that moment.

Freddy looked through the window the car getting away. The engine sound was followed by the silence of the night. Everything turned out well but he didn't feel relieved at all. It was like one of those fairground mirror labyrinths, your own reflection is what prevents you from finding the exit.

 

 

**2.The nature of things**

Mr. Orange was a young thief who had never been in this kind of job, but he had the ability to be sassy without being impertinent. Despite his teasing smile and the self-confidence gestures the boy who painted action figures and hanged posters in the wall still remained. He didn’t find strange that Mr. White seemed to show some kind of preference for him, like he was his protégé or something. “The damn nature of things”, Freddy thought. The guy knew what he was talking about; he was funny and could count with Cabot’s trust, so he was a valuable source of information. It seemed natural someone like Mr. Orange admired a man like him and took his advise. “There’s nothing to feel guilty about, _nothing_ ”.

Freddy looked at himself in the mirror like he was Travis Bickle. Mr. Orange gazed back with his exact same look. Somehow he knew he was playing with fire, but burns were supposed to hurt. He quickly looked away and put on his jacket to go out. He didn’t want to make him wait for too long.

Sometimes he wondered what the other members of the gang would say if they knew about their meetings. There was actually nothing to hide, but he could imagine Mr. Blonde saying some bullshit just for the pleasure to piss them off.

The sun passed through the window and bothered him in the eyes. He put his sunglasses on and lied down on the car seat with his eyes closed. Silence fell between him and Mr. White, but neither felt the need to break it. It was the strangest moment of peace he had experienced in his life. In his sleepiness, Freddy felt a hand gently removing the sunglasses, drawing a little caress with the fingertips along his temple. When he opened his eyes he saw Mr. White looking at him confused; his breath almost unnoticeable. Mr. White’s hand now slipped through his hair, rough and warm, then behind his ear. By instinct Freddy leant his head, strengthening the contact. When he reached his arm and drew Mr. White against him their lips touched for a moment, like children playing grown-up. Chaos came right after. It felt too good, too late to realize he was fucking up everything.

 

 

**3\. Neon Motel**

Saying Freddy had experience would be too much. It was almost finishing high school when between a Helen or a Liz some Johnny or Jimmy showed up from time to time. Afterwards they would say lots of bullshit in front of the other guys like their dick was made of gold and no chick could resist it. It might be funny, but the thing was it actually _wasn’t_. Well, he used to do the same; he didn’t want to mess things up at his job so some asshole could call him a fag.

All of that didn’t matter now, though. The Johnnies or Jimmies had nothing to do with the train out of control that had become his life at this point. Such image seemed strange compared to the quietness of the motel room they were in. The wall was stealing the colors of the lifelessly changing neon lights through the curtains. Pink, Blue, darkness, pink, blue, darkness. The room was neat, something you would expect of someone like Mr. White. He was peacefully sleeping by his side, his nudity barely covered by a tacky sheet with palm drawings. Suddenly, a rush of blood poured his head and he felt like sending everything to hell: Holdaway, Cabot, the fucking undercover job.

But White and he weren’t Thelma and Louise, and their lives weren’t a fucking movie. He got up to put his pants on; he needed a cigarette to calm him down.

-Leaving? –Mr. White’s voice startled him; he had turned on the bedside table light-.

-I didn’t plan on leaving, unless you want me to.

-Stay, _please_.

Freddy lied down by his side and silence fell. Shit, they had been talking non-stop for weeks and now they seemed unable to say a word. White struck first:

-Hey, do you have any plan? You know, after you get the money.

-I think Joe said something about Hawaii, didn't he?

-Yeah, well, that’s not bad, but I have other plans wandering my head way back. –He took some air, like he was considering keep talking or not-. –There’s a place crossing the border, you know? A little village by the coast of Mexico. I’ve been a couple times in my life when I had the need to get away from problems, whatever they were. People are cautious there and they know what’s best for them. I have a friend, Ernesto, who could find a nice house, isolated, and next to the sea-.

-Sounds good, I wish I had made up my mind so well.

-Would you like to see it, kid?.

Freddy froze; his legs still intertwined with White’s, his eyes fixed on the curtain folds. His brain was going so fast he even forgot to breathe for a few seconds. White continued:

-It’s fucking crazy, and still it seems to me the most reasonable thing I’ve ever done. This life takes a toll on you in the end. Going back and forth, risking everything to get nothing in the end. When you are finally aware of it you’re so deep into the shit you just can do the same over and over again hoping one of those times will be the last one and you will be alive to see it-

-...I’d like to know that place. –Freddy said quickly.

He meant it. Freddy stayed there with his eyes everywhere but White's, he was afraid to see him smile, but he wasn't sure why. White grabbed his chin and kissed him.

-We don’t even know each other’s names. –Freddy said a few inches away from his mouth. 

\- I already know what I need to know. Anyway, I'm Larry. Keep yours until we’ve finished the job, to seal our deal.

 

 

**4\. Fool for love**

Once he was alone in his apartment Freddy finally released the desperation growl that was burning his throat. It was too late to back out. He didn’t _want to._ It was like _Larry_ said; a fucking madness that made everything make sense. Freddy knew the details of the robbery; he could make it easy for the two of them to escape. It was Cabot the one they were looking for and they were just tools, it was an easy job. They could disappear when the cops began to intervene and become just two lucky guys who took their chance. He could be whatever White wanted him to be. He could be Mr. Orange.

Freddy hanged the black suit in the wardrobe and got into the bed. He tried to sleep a little; tomorrow all the boys would meet Cabot for breakfast.

 


End file.
